


I See You Reflected In The Moon

by thegizka



Category: Bleach
Genre: Academy Era, Childhood Friends, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Kuchiki family, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-10 13:42:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17426975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegizka/pseuds/thegizka
Summary: She gazed at the moon as though it were magic, and he looked at her as though she were his world.





	1. Searching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Renji wakes up and Rukia is gone, he braves the cold of a winter night to find her.

Renji awoke in the middle of a dark December night, his toes freezing beneath the ratty blanket which was doing its best to keep off the winter chill.  Normally he’d just roll over and try to fall back asleep, but he felt unsettled. He gave his eyes a few moments to adjust to the weak moonlight sneaking through the gaps in the roof before sitting up and scanning the room.

The makeshift dormitory for the Hanging Dog orphans offered limited protection from the outside elements, but it was enough to help most of them survive.  They had allotted the few bunks and warmer blankets for those that were ill, the rest of them huddling together for warmth on the floor. The older kids had decided long ago that lighting a fire inside was too dangerous and the smoke would be detrimental for those who were sick.  So far they had managed to survive the cold, but none of them would call the arrangement ideal.

He scanned the sleeping forms of his friends.  Someone was missing. There was a conspicuous gap in the center of their huddle.  It was uncommon but not unheard of for someone to slip away in the middle of the night and disappear.  The Hanging Dog orphans had an unspoken pact to look out for each other, but their bonds were usually shallow, founded simply on self-preservation.  If someone chanced upon an opportunity to improve their standard of living and move to a better district, he or she would simply leave. No one begrudged them their chance at something better; there was an unspoken understanding that any of them would take that opportunity if it came.

Renji used to think like that, too, until she came.   _ Rukia _ .  Something about her had shaken his world, imperceptibly altered his way of looking at life.  He had had friends amongst the other orphans, but Rukia had somehow made them a family. Finding food and caring for each other were no longer acts of self-preservation but duties of compassion.  Her spiritedness was magnetic, and she pulled them into the vortex of her will until they reshaped their reality through the lense of hope she insisted on looking through. She showed them theirs could be lives worth living, that they were precious to each other, and because she had given them this family, she was the most precious of all.

That was why he felt so unsettled.  Rukia was the one missing.

She wouldn’t leave them for something better, would she?  She had insisted many times that she would not leave them.  Even after the discovery of her incredible spiritual pressure and control, she had promised she had no intention of becoming a Soul Reaper, even though it would guarantee her a warm bed, food, and some level of status.  But if she had actually been approached by a recruiter, if she was actually faced with this choice, would she really stay? She had insisted they each had a better future before them. What if hers meant leaving them behind?

Renji could feel his chest constricting at the thought of never seeing her again.  He was still just distrustful enough to think she might go back on her word. He couldn’t help expecting it, though his cynicism wouldn’t make it hurt any less if it was true.  She had become indispensable and irreplaceable. She was the nucleus of their makeshift family. If she left, their hope would be shattered.

But she had given them no reason to doubt her.  There could be a perfectly reasonable explanation for her current absence.  Knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep without some sort of answer, he got up and picked his way across the cold floor, his years of scraping out survival in this crumbling building helping him avoid the squeaking boards and rusting nails.  He made it to the door without disturbing anyone else. He pulled a pair of thick socks from a grungy pile--the best they could get to protect their feet from the snow. They had also converted some of their scavenged blankets into cloaks, but he was hoping he wouldn’t have to venture very far into the night.  He decided he could do without one for this excursion.

They had taken to propping a large board against the doorway to help the drape which normally served as a door keep out the worst of the winter.  Renji noted it had been pushed aside just enough for a Rukia-sized individual to slip through. It could mean any number of things, but he felt very cold, and it wasn’t all from the frosty air seeping into their home.  He moved the board away as quietly as he could so he could follow her into the night, sliding it back into place behind him.

It was deep enough into the night for the frost to have a strong grip on the outside world.  It was chilly enough for Renji to momentarily regret leaving the cloak inside, but when he spotted the slight difference in texture of the frost on the ground he dismissed his discomfort.  There was a trail of footprints heading out into the yard. The route was familiar, and as soon as he saw the direction, he released an unintentional sigh of relief in a billow of steam. He knew where she was.

Rukia liked sitting in the gnarled old tree that was the only semi-living thing in their yard.  Renji suspected she just liked that it made her taller than everyone, and also that it gave her a degree of privacy when she needed it.  It was such a strange place to hang out that she could sit there for hours without anyone thinking to look for her there. Renji often caught sight of her tucked into the crook of a branch watching them go about their lives with a thoughtful look on her face.  She was less guarded in these moments, softer, letting the raging determination of her will fade. She was vulnerable and young. She had barrelled into their lives and given them unstoppable hope, but she also shouldered the burden of that hope. He could see how much energy it required to keep encouraging everyone else, so he let her keep these hours of semi-solitude and left her to her thoughts.  She deserved at least that much for all she did for them.

He was inclined to do the same now, satisfied that she was safe, but he lingered for a moment.  Rukia was perched in the tree like some strange bird, wrapped up in a cloak so only her head was free to the elements.  Her dark hair was covered by a hideous hat he and his friends had pooled their meager savings together to buy for her birthday. It was handmade by a woman barely better off than they were who sold her feeble creations to make some semblance of a living.  It was constructed with some strangely colored yarn that was mostly purple but also peppered with oranges and greens and pinks. There was also a touch of sparkles to it, just enough for her eyes to light up when they presented it to her. She wore it every time she went out in the cold.  She might even genuinely love it.

Despite the warmth of the hat and the cloak, Rukia’s cheeks were dusted pink from the chilly air.  There was still a ghost of a smile on her lips, and her large violet eyes glittered like the frost when it caught the weak moonlight, though her eyelids were drooping with fatigue.  She was the image of tranquility. Renji couldn’t help but note how cute she looked, even in that strange hat and ratty cloak. It was like the moment they were fishing in the river at sunset and she got distracted by the flowers floating by in the current.  These moments were wholly insignificant, noteworthy only because Renji was caught off guard by how unguarded she was. They were still too young to have any fully formed ideas about love, but he grew suddenly warm and ached in a way that wasn’t physical. He only knew that whatever the future held, he wanted to see Rukia happy like this as much as possible.

But really, she probably shouldn’t be falling asleep perched in a tree in the middle of a winter night.  Her eyes were nearly fully closed, eyelids only fluttering half-heartedly as a corner of her brain told her to stay awake.  Gravity had pulled her chin down into her chest and the warm folds of the cloak. If she shifted much more, it would pull her down to the frozen earth.  It was time to step in before that happened.

“You’ll probably freeze to death if you sleep out here.”

Her eyes snapped open, and she wobbled a bit as the shock woke her up.  A teeny tiny part of him was disappointed she didn’t topple out of her perch as she was incredibly difficult to surprise normally, but she also had incredible reflexes.  He would have to settle for the momentary look of wild surprise that crossed her face before she realized it was him.

“Renji!  What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that.  It’s freezing!”

“You should’ve grabbed a cloak, dummy.”  Her violet eyes glinted with amusement as she watched him shiver below her.

“Well I’m not crazy and go wandering around in the middle of the night during the winter.”

She just hummed in response and turned her gaze to the moon.  He should’ve been annoyed, but it was so rare to have a conversation with Rukia alone that he didn’t want it to be over so quickly, even if he was freezing his butt off.  He simply waited for what she would say next.

“What do you suppose the moon is?”

“Huh?”  The question was so random he couldn’t think of any other response.

“The moon,” she repeated, glancing down at his bewildered face.  “What is it?”

To be honest, Renji had never given it much thought.  He knew its name and he knew it came up at night to replace the sun.  Beyond that, it wasn’t particularly relevant to his life so he didn’t spare it another thought.  Rukia’s question seemed ridiculous.

“It’s just the moon.  What else is it supposed to be?”

“But what is it made of?  Is it alive? Is it friendly?”

“Wha- Is it  _ friendly _ ?”  He looked at her like she had sprouted a second head.  Was the cold making her crazy? “What are you talking about?”

“Someone told me a story once,” she replied softly.  “The sun and moon were lovers, a goddess and a god who traveled the skies together, until one day the moon god killed another goddess.  The sun was so angry, she refused to share the sky with him, and no matter how hard he tries, the moon can never catch up with her to apologize.”

“Huh.”  Renji thought it all rather strange.  If the moon really was a god, he thought, he ought to have the ability to trap the sun or catch up to her somehow.  He had been under the impression that gods were capable of anything. And why would he travel along the same path every night?  It was too ridiculous. But Rukia seemed to be giving it some serious consideration. It was surprising from someone who was normally so down-to-earth.

“Whoever told you that story must have had a great imagination.”

“Maybe…”  She looked a little troubled.  “I can’t remember who it was.”

They fell silent for a moment, pondering the moon, searching its blotchy surface for some clue as to the truth of its being.

“But what if something like that is true?” Rukia asked suddenly, picking up the idea again.  “What if there really are gods governing this world? What does that mean for us?”

“Rukiaaa.”  He could practically feel his brain splitting from the idea.  “It’s the middle of the night. It’s also  _ freezing _ .  Can’t you do this some other time?”

She looked at him and laughed.  There were few things as beautiful as Rukia’s laugh.  It almost warmed him up enough to ease the knots she had tied in his brain.  She jumped down from her perch and began walking back to the dorm, still chuckling.  Renji forced his frozen legs to follower her, looking forward to the warmth indoors.

Right before they ducked inside, Rukia turned to take a final look at the moon.  Its light reflected in her eyes and shone on her face, making her skin sparkle like the frost around them.  The sight of her took Renji’s breath away. Or it could simply have been the cold.

He couldn’t help sighing through his teeth as they slid the makeshift door closed, relieved to have finally made it out of the sharp cold of the winter.

“Sh!” Rukia hissed.

“It feels like I’m being stabbed with needles all over,” he whimpered quietly.  It was a painful price to pay to warm up. He rubbed his arms and legs to speed up the process.  Rukia rolled her eyes, but she smirked at his discomfort.

“That’s what you get for being an idiot.”

“ _ I’m _ the idiot?  You’re the one who was sitting outside in the cold!”

“But I brought the right equipment,” she countered, dropping her cloak onto the pile by the door.

“Whatever.”  He shivered. “I’m going to bed.”

He picked his way across the rough floor and between the sleeping bodies to his discarded blanket.  He wrapped it tightly around himself and curled up, desperate for what little warmth the covering provided.  He tried to ignore his shivering, breath hissing through his chattering teeth, willing himself to relax enough to sleep.  He needed to rest and preserve his energy as the usual chores always seemed twice as difficult in the winter. As one of the older kids responsible for more of their needs, it would be difficult for everyone if he got sick.

After a few minutes of struggling and shivering, an extra blanket dropped over him and a warm back lay down against his.  He froze, the surprise chasing some of the uncontrollable shakes away.

“Goodnight Renji,” he heard Rukia whisper behind him.

Warmth was leaking through his body.  His cheeks felt like they were on fire.

“Goodnight Rukia.”

A few minutes later, they were both asleep.


	2. Separated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rukia had lived nearly all of her life with Renji by her side, but unexpected developments threaten to change everything.

A thin layer of snow blanketed all visible surfaces, the cold night temperature crystallizing it into a glittering coat of ice.  All outside surfaces were slick, including the wooden walkways and porches of the Kuchiki estate. During such cold spells, the family used the inner hallways, keeping the exterior doors closed as much as possible so the warmth wouldn’t be swallowed by the winter chill.

Rukia was the coziest and most comfortable that she had ever been, but she missed the cold.  She missed a lot of things, actually. Her adoption into the Kuchiki clan was the sort of unlikely miracle the Hanging Dog orphans had dreamed of, the whisper of which some of them would disappear to pursue and probably never achieve.  She had been plucked from the lowest rungs of poverty and elevated to the highest of privilege. She had been delivered from obscurity and given a name, a family, an identity. It was the best of fairy tale endings, yet she felt incomplete.

She missed being surrounded by people.  The Kuchiki estate was much quieter than any part of the Soul Society she had ever been in.  Her self-made home in Hanging Dog had been messy and full of orphans. She had done her best to take care of them and protect them until they found a better future.  She had tried to know each of them by name, whether they stayed for a few nights or the rest of their lives. She had even formed close friendships with some of them.  She had grown to love a handful as her family. But she learned that the longer you stay in Hanging Dog, the more goodbyes you have to say. More and more orphans left to try surviving on their own, meaning there were less people to help find food and supplies.  Day to day life was an endless stream of worries and struggles. Then waves of sickness swept through the district, and Rukia watched helplessly as it claimed her friends--her  _ family _ \--one by one.  Soon it was only her and Renji, worn down by the toil and sorrow, tired of goodbyes.  There had been nothing left for them in Hanging Dog, so they enrolled in the Soul Reaper academy.

She was glad Renji was still with her.  Or he had been. She missed him now. They had mourned together, had learned to move on together, had fought for this future together.  They had stuck together in the academy, aware that their tougher background could put them at a social and intellectual disadvantage. But their experiences also gave them the advantage of exposure to fighting and survival and death.  They were quick to learn and adapt, and they eventually let their guards down enough to make friends. Together they were healing and redefining their futures.

Rukia couldn’t help smiling to herself as she remembered all of the things they had learned, like how to sleep on a comfortable mattress, and what the moon really was.  She could still remember how smug Renji had looked when he had explained it was nothing more than a giant rock in the sky pulled through space by the earth’s gravity. He had been fascinated by the science of it all and devoured any information he could find about it.  She had known he was diligent and smart, but their entry into the academy had allowed him to really capitalize on those skills. If only that could help him with his kido.

She had been scared at first when they were given separate rooms in the academy dorms.  She wasn’t used to sleeping in her own space alone. She knew Renji was only down the hallway but her first nights in the dorms had not been particularly restful.  On the third night, tired of how quiet everything was and not yet used to the comfort of the bed, she had snuck out and climbed to the roof, hoping to find some peace in the open air.

To her surprise, a familiar redhead and beat her to it.

“What are  _ you _ doing here?”

Surprise flashed through Renji’s eyes, but they softened in recognition and welcome.

“I should’ve known you’d be along eventually to disturb my peace and quiet.”

“It’s the quiet that drove me out here,” she explained, climbing over the roof to settle beside him, close enough for their shoulders to brush comfortably.  “Everything is too calm here.”

He hummed in agreement.  Silence floated between them, the heavy silence of two minds preoccupied with the same thoughts but not particularly eager to share them.  It wasn’t uncomfortable, though. Over the years they had shared numerous moonlight chats when they had difficulty sleeping. Their talks ranged from silly to serious depending on what they sensed each other needed in the moment.  They had been sources of comfort and relief to each other as they navigated the challenges of life in Hanging Dog. They had perhaps even come to rely on these moments as their friends and family exited their lives. Now confronting the novelty of the Soul Reaper academy, it was comforting to find themselves still sharing in such a familiar experience.

“Well,” Renji sighed after a while, “we made it.”

“We did, though in your case, just barely.”

“I’m sorry we can’t all have raw talent like you.”

“I’m not sure that’ll be such an advantage now that we’re actually at a school with specific lessons and assignments and tests and things.  You’ll have to teach me how to properly study.”

“I know as much about school as you do.  What makes you think I know how to study?”

“Well you’re always thinking about things and learning stuff.”

“That’s much different than being told what to think about and learn.”

“They’re going to teach us to be Soul Reapers, right?  Which means fighting and working in a squad to protect and take care of people.  I know for a fact you have a lot of experience with that.”

“Yeah, I had to figure all of that out as we went along,” he reflected queity.  “Maybe if I’d had someone to teach me, I could’ve taken better care of everyone.”

Rukia’s chest tightened.  They had mourned the loss of their friends, and the ruthlessness of life in Hanging Dog had hardened them to some of the pain, but here was still an emptiness.  Sometimes she got so angry at the injustice that they two had survived such hardships and the others in their family had not.

“We did the best that we could,” she murmured, laying her head on his shoulder to both provide and seek comfort.

“A better future,” he quoted with a sigh, dropping his head to rest on hers.  “It doesn’t really feel that much better right now.”

“Well, we don’t have to scavenge for food.  We have a warm and reliable place to sleep. We are earning enough money to live on.  We have a purpose. And we still have each other.” She smiled up at the waning moon. “It’s not a perfect future, but it is one step closer, one bit better.”

Renji remained silent as his thoughts wandered.  She took the time to admire the stars--burning balls of gas, apparently, but still magical to her.  Nights of sitting awake outside had helped her map those glowing pinpoints in an effort to arrange her flickering thoughts.  But the clarity of the stars were easily hidden by clouds. The moon, however, was harder to dim. Her eyes were always drawn back to it.  Though it waxed and waned, she knew it was always there, always held a place in the sky, and always came back. It was familiar like an old friend.  Like Renji.

“I do hope the next ‘better future’ has beds that I can actually sleep in.”

She giggled, and she felt a slight rumble travel through him to her as he also chuckled.  They spoke about this and that for a while, enjoying the mild weather and each others’ company, before turning in for the night.

Just as they had in Hanging Dog, they often found themselves chatting in the moonlight as they adjusted to this new life.  School hadn’t been as shocking as they had expected. Rukia excelled in reishi control, Renji walloped people in combat, and both did well in their conventional studies.  As they grew more comfortable and felt deserving of their places in the academy, they made friends. They grew to enjoy this new life.

And then everything was disrupted by one unexpected question.  No, it hadn’t been a question. It was an order.

_ We would like to adopt you into the Kuchiki family _ .

There was no appropriate answer other than ‘yes’.  The noble clans never adopted--at least not the main branches--so it was unheard of that anyone would decline.  Besides, it was the ideal dream of any orphan, to be welcomed into all of the comfort and status of the highborn class.  It was the type of fairy tale twist people would die for.

But initially she had wanted to decline.  It was too good to be true. And it made no sense.  Why her? It couldn’t have been due to her record in the academy.  True, she excelled in kido and had been complimented on the precision of her swordplay, but Momo Hinamori had better reishi control, and Renji nearly always bested her in sparring matches.  She was in the upper tier of their class but recognizably shy of the top.

Was it a secret family tie, then?  If so, why hadn’t they found her sooner?  She had struggled alone for so long without any knowledge of her blood family beyond vague memories of stories and feelings.  Renji had at least begun life in the Soul Society with an uncle, giving him the surname Abarai before he died and left his nephew to scrape together an existence with the other Hanging Dog orphans.

Rukia didn’t know if she had ever had a last name.  It was something she wondered about during her moonlight contemplations.  The fact that she had next to nothing to tether her to an identity was secretly distressing.  She felt incomplete and unanchored. Her friendships in Hanging Dog helped to alleviate some of that aching uncertainty, but it remained in the back of her mind.  It had never been a serious problem, though, until they were filling out registration forms before the academy entrance exams.

At the end of a long day of studying, training, and doing odd jobs for the few residents of Hanging Dog who could pay someone else for labor, she and Renji were staying up deep into the night to continue preparing for the academy.  They used others’ discarded candle stubs for light as they filled out forms for legal documents and registration. The moon had risen well above the horizon when Rukia sat back, frowning at a blank space on the paper in front of her.

“What is it?” Renji asked, eyes still fixed to the book he was hunched over.  They had spent so much time together, they could sense the other’s mood changes by proximity.

“I don’t have a last name.”

He glanced at her.  “Yeah, so?”

She handed him the paper, tapping to indicate the trouble spot.  He studied it for a second before handing it back with a shrug.

“Just leave it blank.”

“It has one of those ‘required’ marks by it.  I can’t just leave it blank!”

“But you don’t have a last name.”

“Exactly!  I need one, but I don’t have one!”

His eyes roamed her frustrated face for a second before he turned back to his studies.  “Just make one up then.”

Rukia wanted to punch him in that moment.  Make something up??? A name carried a person’s identity.  She couldn’t just make one up! Didn’t he understand the significance of a last name?  It tied people together, made them belong to each other, formalized a bond between them.  She could feel the desperate desire for that type of connection building inside her, combining with her fatigue and worry over the academy application until it resembled a desperate need she frantically desired to appease.  She couldn’t arbitrarily decide on a fake name, not if it was going on her official application! She knew it would follow her for her entire career as a Soul Reaper and only serve as a constant reminder that she came from nowhere and was tied to no one.

Her frustration was palpable enough to disturb Renji’s studies.  He sat back and let out an exasperated breath, staring through their open door at the moon suspended above the ramshackle roofs of Hanging Dog.  His eyebrows were drawn together, a sure sign that he was thinking seriously about something, and for some reason, it only deepend Rukia’s sense of frustration.  He seemed much too calm to be taking her concerns seriously.

“If it’s that big of a deal to you, then just use my last name.”

“Huh?”  She was taken aback for a moment.  What was he saying? What was he  _ implying _ ?

“Look, we’re family, right?”  He turned to look at her, and she saw that he was as serious as he was when they were calculating how to get enough food to feed everyone for the day.  There was no jest or ulterior motive, only calm honesty. “We’ve promised each other we’re in this together. Might as well make it official and share the same name.”

“You want to get  _ married _ ?” she screeched.

“What?  No!  _ No _ !”  He drew back from her, confusion and surprise and embarrassment coloring his cheeks red.  “I just meant you can use my last name! Like brother and sister! Get marr-- What the heck Rukia?!  No!”

She was laughing now, all of the previous frustration released in silly joy as she watched her best friend getting flustered.  She had figured he didn’t mean that--after all, they were incredibly young for that type of commitment, and while she loved him, she was pretty sure it wasn’t  _ that _ sort of love--but he had left the opportunity open, and she always took the chance to tease him.  He could be such a dork, and she loved when she caught him off guard like this.

By the time she caught her breath and calmed her chuckling, Renji had returned to staring hard at his study material, though his eyes remained frozenly fixed on a single spot and pink skin still hinted at a blush along his cheekbones.  She just stared at him for a while, happy to have him in her life and thrilled that he would give her the gift of his name. She was important enough to him that he was willing to formalize their bond by tying them together with his name.

So she had become an Abarai at the academy.  Of course some of their classmates had been confused and thought they were married.  Rukia always loved those moments because Renji would turn bright red and she would get to laugh and explain how they weren’t, nor were they technically related, but they had chosen to be family to each other so she had registered under his name.  It was easy to explain as a casual formality, but having been given a last name eased some of the ache at having an unknown past and unclear identity.

Yet the Kuchikis decided to take that away from her.  In its place they offered a name with more prestige and greater lineage, but it felt wrong.  She and Renji had shared the same circumstances and overcome the same obstacles together. She wasn’t a noblewoman.  She didn’t fit the name ‘Kuchiki’, and the name didn’t fit her. By accepting, she knew she would simply be inhabiting a role, pretending to be a sister to a man she didn’t know and a daughter to parents she would never meet.  They would be family in name only. Perhaps she would grow to think of them as hers as they evidently intended to think of her as theirs, but she and Renji had already lived for years as a family, as each other’s siblings. Why should she give that up for this unearned legacy?  She had survived by her own volition for so long, she would much rather continue as she had with her best friend.

But as soon as they had made their proposition, she knew that was no longer an option, and Renji’s unexpected visit only served to drive that point home.  She watched with internal horror as the excitement on his face changed to surprise, confusion, and wariness. She watched as her new “brother” looked down his nose at her chosen brother and dismissed him without a second glance.  And she realized what she had been most worried about when they first approached her--that becoming a Kuchiki meant giving up everything that was being an Abarai.

But she couldn’t say no, and she saw in Renji’s eyes that he had already accepted she would say yes.  He congratulated her, bubbling over with the joy and excitement that she couldn’t summon for herself. It broke her heart, but he was saying that he was happy for her and that she should embrace this new future--this  _ better _ future, the sort of future their friends had died dreaming about.  He was letting her go. He was saying goodbye.

“Thank you,” she told him, brushing past him so he wouldn’t see her tears.  There was so much more she wanted to say to this boy who had been by her side and believed in her and had been everything she had needed.  But she couldn’t tell him, couldn’t say all of the things she had thought they would have time to say because she had never expected to say goodbye to Renji.  They were meant to build a better future  _ together _ .  They had promised each other they would never leave.  But she had to walk past him and through the door into life as a Kuchiki.  She was an Abarai no more.

Rukia pulled the thick, warm comforter tighter around herself.  She had adjusted to the comfort of mattresses, but her new home was still too quiet.  She would stay up late at night with her thoughts and gaze at the moon, seeking answers in its mottled surface.  Despite tonight’s cold, she had slipped outside to sit on the porch, dragging her blanket with her for warmth and a semblance of comfort.

Life in Hanging Dog had been crowded and lively.  There had always been things to do, schemes to cook up, and pranks to play.  Here, the servants did everything, ghosting through the estate and accomplishing their duties out of sight so that Rukia felt as though she were alone most of the day, even though she knew there was always someone within earshot.  The few times she had run into the staff, she couldn’t help noticing them giving her a strange look, one that shifted from familiarity to shock to careful and distant deference.In another life, she could have been one of them. Being a servant to one of the noble clans was an enviable life for an orphan.  She wondered what they must think of her, suddenly elevated to a member of the family and their superior. She didn’t blame them for keeping their distance.

She had thought she would see more of her new family, though.  To her, being a family meant sharing their lives and being close to each other, like she had with the Hanging Dog orphans.  She rarely saw her Kuchiki relatives. Byakuya would usually join her for dinner, but a few days each week his Soul Reaper duties kept him working until late.  She was expected to give him a report every evening on the progression of her studies--she had private tutors covering academy lessons and the expectations of the nobility--but he only ever desired the facts.  He rarely commented on her progress, and never offered praise. Like her teachers, he was distant, but at least he was somewhat willing to interact with her. After an initial introduction and polite visits to other members of the Kuchiki clan, Rukia had been all but ignored by her new relatives.

She missed Renji especially in these long moments alone when she couldn’t sleep.  The formality and rigidity of this new life were isolating, and she longed for his liveliness and sincerity.  Since leaving the academy for her private lessons, she hadn’t been able to keep up on the progress of her friends.  She was being streamlined to graduate early and practically guaranteed a ranked seat in one of the Court Guard Squads.  She didn’t know when she would have the chance to see anyone again. Would they all graduate? Would Renji’s issues with kido hold him back?  Would he have classmates watching his back during their lessons in the field? He had found a few friends to hang out and study with, and hopefully they would survive the trials of the academy together.

But they were out of reach for her now, as far away as the moon.  She didn’t feel like she had anyone watching her back anymore. That was something she had given up when she gave up being an Abarai.  She was learning that being a Kuchiki meant maintaining a distance from everyone else under the guise of pride and reserve. It was the opposite of Hanging Dog where they had shared everything.  She missed the warmth she used to feel at the word “family”. The only thing she had left of her previous life was the moon, the constant companion of her inner thoughts. Tonight, it had never seemed so far away.


End file.
